


once upon a december

by MaidenMotherCrone



Series: HEX [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Universe - SKAM Fusion, Christmas Fluff, Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Luna Lovegood, POV Pansy Parkinson, POV Ron Weasley, POV Tom Riddle, The Golden Trio, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenMotherCrone/pseuds/MaidenMotherCrone
Summary: Christmastime is the most wonderful time of the year at Hogwarts. Life is now.(a month-long holiday special)
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley
Series: HEX [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1471166
Comments: 99
Kudos: 171





	1. TUESDAY, 10:12 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've decided last minute for there to be a holiday special because I love December. The schedule will be as follows:
> 
> Ron: December 1-7 (SWEATER WEATHER)
> 
> Luna: December 8- 14 (WHITE WINTER HYMNAL)
> 
> Pansy: December 15-21 (WINTER WONDERLAND)
> 
> Tom: December 22-31 (COLDEST WINTER)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, Ron Weasley lets you know that he has no problem with everyone's Slytherin SO. No really, he doesn't. Just one.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "'Cause it's too cold for you here  
> And now, so let me hold  
> Both your hands in the holes of my sweater  
> 'Cause it's too cold for you here  
> And now, so let me hold  
> Both your hands in the holes of my sweater, woah"
> 
> -Sweater Weather, The Neighborhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RON: SWEATER WEATHER

Ron Weasley is chill.

He is. Not much bothers him, and that’s a fact.

He has a large family that’s supportive to a fault. He’s got good friends in the Defense Squad. And he has the prettiest girlfriend in all of Hogwarts. In all of the world, if Ron’s really being honest, and he’s a big believer in honesty.

So, yeah, not much bothers him.

Well, except—

“Do they just  _ have  _ to be snogging in the middle of the courtyard?” Ron grumbles, glaring across to the big twisted tree, snow piled on each branch, hanging precariously over his baby sister and her  _ boyfriend’s  _ heads.

“I mean, they’re  _ dating _ , Ron,” Harry drawls.

“Yeah, but so are Pansy and Hermione, and they’re not nearly that bad,” Ron points out.

Hermione laughs, looking over at Ron with a raised eyebrow. “That’s because we know how to conduct our business in private. Also, some of the boys are quite strange. The oversexualization of the lesbian is terrible,” Hermione says severely, and she sounds like she’s going to go in on one of her very long historical lectures, and so Ron is quick to interrupt her.

“Yes, I guess you’re right,” he says hurriedly.

Hermione looks a little put out, like she knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Hermione’s sharper than anyone else he knows.

“And you and Lavender aren’t the best either. You two snog all the time. In the middle of the common room,” Hermione says firmly.

Ron feels his ears get hot. “We were drunk!”

“Every time?” Harry says with a sly smirk.

“Hey, bugger off. At least we’re not  _ dramatic  _ like you and Riddle. You two are always fighting,” Ron accuses.

“It’s called passion,” Harry retorts.

Hermione hums. “It’s called dysfunctional, but whatever,” she says loftily.

Before Harry can argue his case, Ron’s world shifts on its axis.

He can sense her coming before he sees her, and everything about the world seems easier as Lavender comes through the nearest archway. Her blonde ringlets are bouncing under her cap, and she nearly crashes into Blaise and Ginny. She comes to a stop, and squeaks something at Ginny, tugging her arms. Ginny only looks put out for a moment, and then she allows Lavender to drag her over to the rest of the Defence Squad.

“Hello, hello!” Lavender says hurriedly. “I’ve just had the best idea!”

She drops her knapsack in Ron’s lap and he grunts.

“Well, hello to you too,” Luna says, her pale eyebrows rising.

Lavender grins and leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Ron’s mouth. “Hello,” she murmurs, much more intimately. Ron grins at her.

“Hey. What’s this idea?”

Lavender hums. “Oh, yes, right!” She throws open her bag, tugging out a folded parchment and a quill. “Yes, I would like...to throw a  _ party _ .”

“A party,” Ginny says. “I always love a party.”

Lavender grins. “Right? So, do I. We’ve never  _ thrown  _ a party, have we? And we’re seventh years. We’re the most  _ popular  _ seventh years—”

“ _ We’re  _ not seventh years,” Ginny interrupts.

“Debatable,” Hermione says at the same time as her.

“Debate with your mother,” Lavender says dismissively, and Hermione smirks. “We should throw the Gryffindor party. It’ll be  _ fantastic _ . And we’ll have a VIP section—we can invite a  _ ton  _ of people. We can have it...somewhere near here? Maybe we’ll rent a space in Hogsmeade?”

“Renting a space sounds best, especially if not many people can get back into the castle during the break,” Hermione says, already thinking of logistics.

Being with Pansy has made her relax a bit. Ron is definitely grateful for that.

“Oooh, good idea,” Lavender says cheerfully. “We’ll invite all of the Houses—fifth year and up, of course. And maybe some of the alumni? The Death Eaters?”

Ron groans. The  _ Death Eaters _ .

“We’re already inviting the regular Slytherins. We need the alumni too?” Ron groans.

Ron doesn’t  _ really  _ have anything against Slytherins. Slytherins aren’t bad. Just predisposed to shadiness. The Death Eaters are a prime example. Ron’s extremely positive that Tom Riddle is building an underworld empire in Knockturn Alley. He expects that they’ll find more recruits if they come into contact with any of the current Slytherins. 

Harry snorts. “Well who else would we invite?”

“What do you mean?” Ron demands.

“Well...most of us are dating Slytherins,” Harry insists. “I mean, I’m dating Tom. Hermione’s dating Pansy. Your  _ sister  _ is dating Zabini—”

“Ah,” Ron interrupts with a groan. He snorts when Ginny punches him in the shoulder and he rubs the sore spot—worth it.

“And all of their friends and our adjacent acquaintances? Slytherins. Unless...are there any Ravenclaws you want to invite, Luna?” Harry asks. Lavender sits up, quill poised over her parchment, ready to take down any names for her invitation list.

Ron knows his girlfriend. She’s going to want to go to Hogsmeade to fetch the right kind of stationery so that she can mail out the prettiest invitations possible. There’ll be too many of them for the Owlery, he expects—especially to get to all of Riddle’s Death Eaters—so she’ll want to go to the Post Office in Hogsmeade too. He wonders if he can get her to go to the Hogsmeade branch of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes.

“No. But, I  _ do  _ have a pen pal. His name is Rolf—” Luna says.

“What kind of name is Rolf?” Ron murmurs.

Luna laughs. “The name-kind.”

It doesn’t make sense, but it kinda does.

“It’s too bad this isn’t a Christmas party,” Harry says softly. “We could’ve exchanged gifts, then.”

“I don’t celebrate Christmas, and I already have plans,” Hermione says primly. “Since we aren’t at the castle, I don’t have to participate in festivities with  _ you  _ all.”

“Plans?” Lavender asks.

Hermione grins. “Pansy is taking me on a date, I think.”

Lavender coos.

“And yeah, no can do. Blaise is coming over for Christmas dinner. He’s actually really looking forward to it,” Ginny says.

Ron chokes on  _ air. _

He knew nothing of the  _ sort _ . Blaise Zabini was coming to the Burrow.

The Burrow was going to be full of  _ Blaise Zabini _ .

“You’re inviting him  _ over _ ?” Ron blanches, and Ginny looks at him like  _ he’s  _ the weird one. “Are you really that serious?”

Ginny snorts. “I’ve been dating him even longer than I dated Dean, Ron. He’s met Mum and Dad already. Of course he’s coming for Christmas.”

Ron shakes his head wildly. “No, don’t tell me ‘of course’, like that’s something I should expect. You didn’t even give me any warning!”

Ginny rolls her eyes and turns away, like she’s already tired of the conversation. He doesn’t understand how she’s tired of it already. They’ve just begun  _ discussing _ and he hasn’t even made his disapproval clear yet.

“You’ve still got twenty-four days,” Luna sings. “Isn’t that plenty of warning?”

“Absolutely not!” Ron says furiously.

“Get over yourself, Ron. Blaise is coming for dinner,” Ginny says sturbbonly. She leans in to look at Harry, fluttering her lashes, a playful smirk on her face. “Hey, so have you had a chance to look at my Defence essay yet?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like Hermione?”

“No, but you do look a bit like Riddle. Pale, dark hair—” Ginny teases.

“ _ Enough _ ,” Harry groans, shaking his head.

Ron is still shaken. He can’t believe that Ginny is inviting  _ Zabini  _ to Christmas dinner.

“Does Mum know?” he asks.

“Of course, she likes to know early about these things,” Ginny sighs, shaking her head. She gives him one of her  _ looks _ , the kind that she says she’s far done with his shit. “Can we move along?”

Ron waves his hand at her, dismissing it all.

“O _ -kay _ ,” Lavender drawls in the empty space. She bounces up and down in her seat, as if gathering her excitement from the air. “Okay! So, no Christmas party of  _ course _ , but what would you say about bringing in the New Year together?”

“Sounds fun,” Hermione says, and Ron hears it all in a distant way, he really does.

He’s gotten a lot better at paying attention.

But, he’s still thinking about the fact that Ginny is bringing Blaise to Christmas. Was it normal to bring a significant other over for Christmas? Maybe in a smaller family—Harry has done that with Riddle before, or kind of, more like Riddle came with Bellatrix and they all knew who Riddle was  _ really  _ with—but the Weasleys are another breed.

They’re practically a clan.

And Ginny has all brothers. Very overprotective brothers. Ron doesn’t really understand why Zabini would be interested—unless he actually really does like Ginny.

Which of course he fancies her, Ginny is incredible, Ron loves his sister.

But, really.

They haven’t been together that long— _ have they _ ?

Not seriously, really.  _ Or maybe they have _ ?

Ron sneaks a look over at Lavender as she goes through a list of potential ideas with Luna. Lavender seems to sense him looking at her, and she briefly looks up, flashing him the sweetest smile. Ron’s heart thuds in his chest and he swallows around the knot in his throat.

He’s been dating Lavender for a while now.

_ Does she expect to be invited to Christmas dinner too? _


	2. WEDNESDAY, 4:22 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ron isn't nervous, but, like, he's starting to get a little nervous, man, you know?
> 
> ~*~
> 
> And my head told my heart  
> "Let love grow"  
> But my heart told my head  
> "This time no"  
> Yes, my heart told my head  
> "This time no  
> This time no"
> 
> -Winter Winds, Mumford & Sons

“I’m still waiting to hear back from the Mastery programs on the continent, but I don’t expect to know for sure until after N.E.W.T’s,” Hermione sighs to herself, balancing one cheek on one hand as she continues scrawling her Ancient Runes notes.

Maybe not scrawling. Hermione has probably never scrawled in her entire life. Her work is always so perfectly neat.

Harry is _definitely_ scrawling. He’s barely paying attention to Hermione aas he squints at the essay. He’s much more diligent about being Remus’ TA than he is about his own work, but Ron might’ve had to disown him if that wasn’t the case. Hermione’s the only one that’s allowed to be a bit of a nerd. Those are the _rules_.

“What year?” Ron asks.

Harry hums. “Third. Dark creatures. Were we as dense as these third years?” Harry asks.

“You two?” Hermione asks. “Denser.”

“Hey!” Ron protests.

Hermione smirks. “What?”

Ron shakes his head and purses his lips. “And what about Parkinson?”

“Applying to the same programs. I think she’s definitely going for a Mastery in Ancient Runes, but I’m still oscillating between Charms and Arithmancy. Perhaps a dual program? We’re thinking Oslo as a first choice since it’s close to that Healing institution that she wants to work with,” Hermione explains. “We’ll get a flat together, I’m sure.”

Ron hums. He can’t believe that Hermione and Parkinson are already talking about their future. They’re planning to move in together. To go to the same Mastery program. To be _adults_ together. And Ron is here, unable to even ask his girlfriend to fucking Christmas.

“What about you, Harry?” Ron asks.

Harry snorts. “I have no idea. I like teaching. Duelling team is still fun. Can I be a professional dueller?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Hermione says dryly.

“And moving in with Tom? I don’t know...he’ll probably make me swear an Unbreakable Vow so that I can’t ever tell about the shady shit he’s up to. He says he lives in Knockturn because of the low rent, but he lives with the Lestrange brothers, so he doesn’t really need to _worry_ about rent,” Harry says with a snort.

“Does it not bother you that your boyfriend is probably a criminal?” Ron asks.

Harry looks up from his work, lips pressed into a thin line. “Probably less than it should,” he acknowledges. He sighs, shaking his head. “As long as he doesn’t _kill_ anyone, I think we’re okay.”

Ron privately thinks that it would be very easy for Riddle to kill someone, and that he wouldn't feel about it even a little. He knows better than to say that to Harry outright. Anyway, he thinks Harry might already know that. Harry probably knows all sort of creepy shit about Riddle.

“But you have a key to his place, right?” Hermione asks.

Harry nods. “I do. I can crash there whenever. I just don’t think I _want_ to.”

So, he has plans too. Sorta. Everyone has plans and significant others to do those plans with and Ron is just...Ron is _just_ —

“I think I’m going to invite Lavender to the Burrow for Christmas.”

Ron doesn’t look up from his lap. He can _feel_ his ears burning, and the weight of Harry and Hermione’s stares on his shoulder. The silence goes on a beat too long, and Ron dares to look up. Harry has a bewildered smile on his face, and Hermione looks fierce.

Her eyes narrow. “If you’re inviting her _just_ because of Ginny—”

“I’m not!” Ron squawks. Ginny’s definitely a _reason_ , but not the _only_ one, he insists in his head.

“You better not,” Hermione warns. She slaps her book closed and sits up taller, leaning across the table. “If you invite her, she’s going to be so excited.”

“She really is,” Harry agrees.

Ron gnaws at his bottom lip. “You really think so?”

“Yes, Lavender is _definitely_ the type to love to meet the parents and spend holidays with her significant other,” Hermione says primly. “She lives for these things. She’ll find it terribly romantic if you ask her. How _are_ you going to ask her?”

“I didn’t get that far yet,” Ron admitted.

Hermione rolls her eyes. Her judgment is _scathing_.

“You should ask her at Hogsmeade. After a date,” Hermione says.

Harry frowns. “Why can’t he just ask her in the common room?”

Hermione glares at Harry, rolling his eyes. “Because Lavender loves _romance_. You know that.”

“I also know that Lavender reads romance into _everything_ ,” Harry points out.

Ron nods his agreement at that. He doesn’t like thinking about it, but he remembers the whole debacle between Lavender and Riddle—even thinking about it pisses him off. Lavender had romanticized every little action, despite the fact that Riddle had treated her like absolute shit. Ron still hadn’t forgiven Riddle for that. He doesn’t think he ever will.

“This is what you’re going to do,” Hermione declares, sitting up taller. She looks over her shoulder, as if checking for the rest of the Defence Squad. She turns back to Ron, and stares into his soul. “You’re going to take her on a date in Hogsmeade on Saturday. It should be snowing, that’ll be very cute. You’ll take her to Madame Pudifoot’s—”

Ron groans. “I hate Madame Pudifoot’s.”

“ _Lavender_ doesn’t,” Hermione hisses. “And then, you’ll do whatever you want to do, and then, when you’re standing in the snow, you’re going to ask her.”

Ron swallow.

Hermione makes it sound so easy. But, she doesn’t get the way that Ron’s brain basically goes to mush when he looks at Lavender. Sometimes, his tongue feels too swollen in his mouth, and he loses his entire mind, because Lavender is so beautiful and funny and genuine. He swallows hard and shakes his head, because he suddenly feels like he has water in his ears.

“That’s a good plan,” Harry agrees.

Ron frowns. “What if she wants to spend Christmas with her parents? We won’t be at home for most of the break. It makes sense if she wants to see them.”

“Then, she can see them,” Harry agrees. “But, maybe she’ll spend dinner with your family.”

Hermione nods, excited. “Yes! It’ll be good, right? She’ll be able to meet your entire family!”

Ron’s stomach turns.

He looks down and then, he feels Harry’s hand on his shoulder. Slowly, he meets his best friend’s green eyes.

“She’s going to say yes,” Harry insists.

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts!” Hermione says firmly.

Ron sighs, falling back into his chair. He looks up at the ceilings of the library. He’s always wondered what’s up in the rafters with the chandeliers. Something must be living up there. There can’t possibly be just chandeliers. There has to be more.

He wants to ask Lavender. He _does_. But she still makes him nervous, and he thinks that she...she might think it’s too soon. She might think it’s weird. It’s too much. Ron doesn’t want to be _too much_ for her, even though he’s never felt like enough before, and isn’t that a bitch. Hermione would call it cognitive dissonance.

“Anyway, what are you gonna give her?” Harry asks.

Ron turns ashen.

Now, he’s even _more_ nervous.

Dammit, Harry.


	3. FRIDAY, 11:55 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which ron exchanges letters.

_Dear Mum_

_Hey, I know it’s been a while. Sorry about that. I know, I know, I should write. I get it, Mum. Anyways, just wanted to say hello._

_Ginny’s well. Really well. We just won the last game. Now we’re on a break for a few months until February. So, off to duelling. Harry runs the team like an Auror sergeant. I think he thinks he needs to be ~~as much of an arse~~ as hard as Riddle, but he really doesn’t. I think Hermione will talk him down soon enough. He’s a much better teacher when he’s relaxed. _

_Uh, classes are going alright. Everything’s alright._

_Anyway. I wanted to ask if my girlfriend, Lavender, could come to the Burrow for Christmas. I know Zabini is coming, Ginny told me, and I thought I’d be alright if I brought her along. Or if she goes to her parents first, for the morning, maybe, and then comes later. It’s also alright if you say no. I don’t mind. She won’t mind. I mean, I haven’t asked her yet. Anyway._

_Yeah. Don’t feel like you have to respond right away._

_Love you,_

_Ron_

* * *

_Dear my little Ronnie,_

_It’s good to hear from you! I don’t very often. You should write to your mother more, before I forget that you exist. I’ve sent along a few little cakes. Be sure to share them with your friends, that’s far too much sugar for one growing boy. Oh, I know that you’ll say you’re a grown man, but you’re only seventeen. You won’t stop growing just yet for a while._

_Now, I received your letter just last night, and I spent quite some time thinking it over. I think it would be lovely if you invited Lavender over. She seems to be such a charming young girl from the stories that you and your sister tell. A good head on her shoulders. Haven’t heard a bad word about her, and I hear from your sister that she has quite the appreciation for Witch Weekly. Something that we can bond over._

_Tell her that we expect her at the Burrow at six o’ clock. Blaise will be there earlier on. I don’t think that he and his mother really celebrate the holidays. No matter. You know those upper crust types. Can’t quite wrap my head around them, you know._

_I will see you for Christmas, dear, and your Lavender too._

_All my love,_

_Mum_

_P.S. LANGUAGE!_


	4. SATURDAY, 12:43 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which ron and lavender go on a date.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> I will not ask you where you came from  
> I will not ask and neither should you  
> Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips  
> We should just kiss like real people do
> 
> -Like Real People Do, Hozier

“Come on, Ron!” Lavender insists, her mittened hand tucked in his. She tugs him forward, marching with single mindedness through the snow. Ron rushes after her, easily keeping stride with her with his long legs. “I want to get my stationery before it gets too crowded. I can’t believe I ran out of my silver ink,  _ just  _ in time for my invitations. They need to be out  _ soon _ . By next week, at the latest!”

“Do they  _ have  _ to though?” Ron asks. “I think anyone will go.”

“But the Death Eaters won’t have any idea, and they’ll be part of our VIP group. I want to be sure that they know that,” Lavender says primly.

Ron doesn’t really have the heart to tell Lavender that the Death Eaters think that they’re VIP wherever they go, so they don’t really need a special invitation to do that. Instead, he nods and they walk down the snowy path together.

Normally, the Defence Squad would all go to Hogsmeade together, would probably grab butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks and maybe gorge out at Honeydukes. But, Hermione and Harry know that Ron is going to try to ask her today. He is going to go with Lavender to run her errands, paying close attention to everything that she looks at, in case he finds something he can afford to get her for Christmas. Then, he’s going to ask her to Madame Pudifoot’s—where he has a reservation—and then, he’ll ask her.

It’s a good plan.

It’s a solid plan.

It’s a plan.

Ron squeezes hard on Lavender’s hand and she looks up at him, giving a quizzical smile back. Ron rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand, looking away.

“Think I might want to stop by a few places too,” Ron murmurs.

“Oh, yeah? Like what? Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes or Honeydukes?” Lavender asks teasingly.

Ron groans. “Oh man, am I so predictable?”

Lavender giggles. “No, I just know you,” she says with a smile. He smiles back helplessly.

As they walk down the mountain, they pass so many other students—students that look at them with big, wide eyes. That’s another thing about seventh year that’s strange. Ron has a girlfriend and also he gets a lot of stares because he’s part of a world championship-winning duelling team. Of course, he made a bit of a blunder in his match during the tournament, but he’s been doing a few independent bouts that Harry has set up with some of the club duelling teams in some of the wizarding villages, and it’s been good.

Ron’s really been improving. He’s also a great Keeper now.

So, Ron’s life is great. He’s getting better at duelling, he’s a great Keeper, and he has a girlfriend.

And yet, there’s still a  _ block _ there. There’s this block that won’t allow him to just blurt out his question and ask Lavender over for Christmas dinner.

“I think I wanna go to Scrolls & Tomes. I think for the VIP invitations, I’ll do black parchment and silver ink. How does that sound? Or maybe something more festive? A midnight blue or a navy blue?” Lavender asks.

These are questions that Lavender loves to ask, and Ron has a 50-50 chance of getting it right.

“Um...navy blue?” he suggests.

Lavender scoffs with a laugh. “No, no, definitely midnight blue. See, this is why I need you, love. You help me figure out what I  _ really  _ want.”

Ron really wants to ask her to dinner.

He opens his mouth, he practices it in his head,  _ Hey, Lav, maybe you want to come over to the Burrow on Christmas evening? _

And then, he doesn’t say it.

Instead, he says, “Of course. You always know what you  _ really  _ want. You’re just bad at making decisions.”

“Well, I made a decision and asked you out, didn’t I?” Lavender laughs.

Ron grins. “Hmmm...I feel like I’ve done a lot of the heavy lifting—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lavender laughs, smacking him in the shoulder lightly. Ron snags her fingers and tugs her in, craning his neck downward to kiss the laughter from her lips.

Ron sighs into the kiss, and then, they’re going back down the snowy path into Hogsmeade. There’s something about Hogsmeade—about all of Hogwarts, really—during Christmastime. Everything seems even  _ more  _ magical than usual, and this year in particular, too.

When they enter Scrolls & Tomes, the shopkeeper waves to them, because he knows Lavender by now. If they had a special members card, Ron is sure that it would be a club of two—Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger. That’s how often they end up in Scrolls & Tomes on their trips to Hogsmeade. Sometimes, it’s two trips, if they go as a group, and Lavender’s forgotten something. Hermione will always take it as an opportunity to buy more ink or parchment or  _ something _ .

Lavender picks out the best midnight blue stock paper, and takes ten minutes deciding between two silver inks with different consistencies, and Ron never gets bored.

It’s insane to him too.

Nothing about Lavender bores him. She’s too amazing.

So, really, it should be nothing, to ask her to the Burrow.

His Mum is going to adore it. It’s simply a fact. His Dad is going to think she’s so funny, and Ron can just picture the two of them examining one of his father’s strange Muggle things. Lavender will probably be intrigued too since she’s taken to interrogating Hermione or Parkinson about the various Muggle dates they go on.

As she’s paying at the front, he’s going to ask her, he means to ask her:  _ Lavender, my mum really wants to meet you, do you want to meet her too? _

And then...he doesn’t.

He looks away as she finishes handing the shopkeeper her Sickles and receives her Knuts in return.

“Where to now?” Lavender asks.

“Honeydukes, of course. I’ve run out of Chocolate Frogs,” Ron says.

Lavender rolls her eyes. “If you keep spending all of your money on candy, then you won’t have any to buy Christmas presents,” she points out.

The back of Ron’s neck is hot. She’s right, of course. She’s one of the people he needs to buy a gift for, and yet—he can’t think of a single thing that he can give her. Lavender has never had an issue with buying what she wants. She just...does it.

“Nah, I won that last duelling bout remember? I have a few Galleons from that. That’s definitely enough to buy everyone’s presents,” Ron insists.

Lavender nods her agreement. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Hmmm...next time, we come here, I should look for art supplies for Luna. You think she’d like that?”

Ron hums. “Yeah, I mean, is Luna into art?”

Lavender scoffs. “Is Luna into art? She’s  _ incredible _ , Ron. Really, you should ask about our friends’ hobbies more.”

“I  _ know  _ their hobbies. Duelling.”

Lavender laughs again as they walk down to Honeydukes and they walk by that dress shop, the one Lavender looks in all of the time, and in the window is a gorgeous floral dress, and Ron thinks— _ oh Lavender would cry to have that dress _ —and then, he sees the tag and the price and promptly looks away, his stomach falling out from under him again.

He doesn’t quite see the side eye Lavender gives him, but he can feel the weight of her stare.

Even in Honeydukes, he avoids her gaze as he picks through the candy, finding his favorites, and hers too, because he wants to get her that. They’re talking—they’re always talking, chattering back and forth—but Ron knows he might seem a little distracted. He can’t help it. He’s frustrated. He’s concerned. And every time he opens his mouth, he hopes that he’ll ask.

He never does.

When they’re done in Honeydukes, Ron clears his throat and pulls out his watch—that pocket watch that his parents got him for his seventeenth birthday. It’s nearly 2. Almost time for Madame Pudifoot’s. He clears his throat and turns to Lavender.

“Hey, I have a surprise—” Ron starts.

Lavender is looking at him. “You should go back up to the castle. I have to go.”

Ron blanches. “What do you mean go?”

“I have to go. You seem tired, Ron. Go on,” Lavender insists.

Like she  _ knows _ .

“Wait...Madame Pudifoot’s…” Ron says weakly.

Lavender shakes her head, an odd little smile on her face. She reaches for his hands and leans up, pressing the softest of kisses to his lips. Ron leans into it, feeling the warmth of her against him and he wants to wrap himself around her and  _ cling _ . Except, Lavender falls back onto her heels and smiles up at him.

“I know you don’t like it. It’s not necessary,” Lavender says gently. She shakes her head, tilting up. “I have a lot to do for the party. I’m meeting up with Lu.”

“But—”

Lavender presses the tips of her fingers to his mouth. “Ron,” she says quietly. “You’re being weird. And I don’t know why. You don’t want to talk about it, clearly. But, I  _ want  _ to talk to you whenever you’re ready.”

“There’s nothing wrong!” Ron squeaks out, an utter lie.

Lavender snorts. “You’ve never been a great liar, love,” Lavender says, shaking her head. “I’m just...disappointed that you think you can’t talk to me. But, I  _ will  _ be there when you’re ready.” For a moment, she just stares at him, and then, as if to reassure him that they’ll be okay, she smiles and teasingly says, “Alright,  _ Won-Won _ ?”

And then Lavender kisses him again, so warm and sweet, and then she turns on her heel and bounces off.

Leaving Ron standing in the snow, feeling like a  _ fucking  _ idiot because he has the best girl in the world.


	5. SUNDAY, 2:37 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which ron and ginny have a moment.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> But now it strikes me far too late again  
> That I was asking far too much of everyone around me  
> And now it strikes me far too late again  
> That I should answer for myself as the Ascension falls upon me
> 
> -The Ascension, Sufjan Stevens

Ron sits up in the Quidditch stands by himself. It’s the best place to think and also, not to think, he’s always thought. It’s funny, because when he’d first started playing Keeper, he’d always thought too much. He was too deep in his own head. He isn’t always like that now, but sometimes, he is. It’s a constant struggle.

Anyway, he’s in the Quidditch stands, and he fully expects her to find him.

Still, when Ginny does, he’s surprised.

“Hey. Why are you by yourself?” Ginny asks, brusquely. She climbs over the stands, slamming down onto the bench next to him with far too much force than her little body should hold.

Well, she’s packed on some muscle now. After training with the Holyhead Harpies, she’s mostly all sinewy muscles, and she’s kept to her routine. After all Gwenog Jones has been keeping tabs on her and it’s practically guaranteed now that Ginny’s going to go pro. Ron thinks if this had been just a few years ago, he’d be seething with jealousy.

He isn’t now. Kinda. He’s not sure what he feels.

“I’m just…” Ron waves his hand in air, unsure.

Ginny hums. “Yeah. I remember when I was just…” and she mocks his movement.

Ron snorts. He remembers that too. Ginny had a rough fifth year, at least in the beginning.

“I just...you’re inviting Zabini to Christmas.”

Ginny snorts. “Yeah, so?”

“You’re inviting Zabini to  _ Christmas  _ at the  _ Burrow _ with our  _ family _ ,” Ron repeats, slowly. He looks away, and Ginny hums, like she’s thinking through what he said.

He knows when it dawns on her—what he’s saying—because she sits up straighter.

“Ron,” she says, softly, “it’s not a big deal.”

“It feels like it,” Ron insists. “You’re serious about him?”

“As serious as I can be as a sixteen year old,” Ginny says. “I don’t know if it’s forever. I’m not  _ looking  _ for forever. But, I fancy him a lot. Might even love him. And he’s the first person I’ve ever  _ wanted  _ to meet Mum and Dad. And now, I want him to meet our brothers. I want him to know  _ me _ and who made me me.”

Ron gets that. Ginny is brilliant and funny and talented. She’s going to be a Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies. She’s so strong too and fierce. There’s a reason that Ginny is his favorite sibling, even though he shouldn’t have one of those. Ron understands why Zabini likes her—who wouldn’t like her, his sister is greatness—and Zabini gets her in a way Dean didn’t.

And yet.

Ron takes a deep breath.

“I think I want Lavender to know them too,” he admits. “I want her to know Mum and Dad. I want her to know our brothers.”

“Then, what’s the problem?” Ginny demands.

Lavender knows that the Weasleys don’t really have money. But, she hasn’t been to the Burrow. She doesn’t know that for a long time, most of Ron’s wardrobe were hand-me-downs. She doesn’t know that at one point, they were struggling to put food on the table, when nearly all of them were under Mum’s roof. She doesn’t know.

And she doesn’t know Ron’s brothers. Ron’s brilliant brothers. She doesn’t know that she has picked the non-brilliant one.

She doesn’t  _ know _ and he doesn’t want her to know.

But, still he does.

Ron wants her to know more than anything.

“I’m scared,” he confesses.

There’s an aching moment of silence.

And  _ then _ .

“You’re so dumb,” Ginny declares.

Ron balks, staring at her with wide eyes. “I am  _ not _ —”

“You are,” Ginny says, shaking her head. She stands up, hands on her boyish hips and she glares down at him. In this moment, she looks more like their mother than ever, fire in her eyes, and Ron sits up straight, just slightly terrified. “I can’t  _ believe  _ you’re doing this. Aren’t you a Gryffindor?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Then, be brave!” Ginny declares.

Ron looks away, because that’s so  _ easy  _ to say. Ginny has always been the one to throw herself headfirst into things. Same with Harry. And  _ Hermione _ . They’re brave. They’re courageous. It makes sense that their Gryffindors.

Sometimes, Ron thinks that he’s only a Gryffindor because there’s never been a Weasley that wasn’t.

“I’m not—” Ron starts.

“No.” Ginny grabs his hand in hers, squeezing hard. He looks up at her with wide eyes. “You  _ are _ . You are brave.”

“No, you are,” Ron corrects.

Ginny shakes her head. “I’m reckless. Bravery is doing something even when you’re  _ still  _ afraid. That’s always been you, Ron. You’re the bravest of us all. I believe that  _ so  _ much. You should believe it too.”

Ron feels something spark in his gut and he squeezes hard on Ginny’s hand. There are things that he feels, things that he keeps locked up tight. He wants to tell her. He thinks he could only tell her, even though Harry and Hermione are his best friends. There are some things that he can only tell his  _ sister _ —his favorite sibling though he would never speak those words aloud.

“Lavender is...brilliant. She’s so much,” Ron whispers. “And sometimes, I don’t think I’m enough.”

“You’re enough for her,” Ginny insists. “She  _ loves  _ you.”

Ron is stricken by those words. Lavender has never said those words to him.

“What?”

“She  _ loves  _ you. You can see it every time she looks at you. And you love her too. I know you do,” Ginny says gently. She gives her lopsided smile and she swings back to sit next to him on the bench. She leans back on the heels of her hands and pushes the toes of her boots under the powdery layer of snow. “You two are brilliant together, Ron. You’ll see. Our family will see. You just have to ask her.”

She lets her head drop on his shoulder.

Ron presses his burning ear to the top of Ginny’s head and squeezes her hand.

_ He just has to ask her _ .


	6. MONDAY, 8:09 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which ron is brave.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> There is a house built out of stone  
> Wooden floors, walls and window sills  
> Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust  
> This is a place where I don't feel alone  
> This is a place where I feel at home
> 
> 'Cause, I built a home  
> For you  
> For me
> 
> -To Build A Home, The Cinematic Orchestra

Ron is going to do it.

He is.

He tells Harry as much as soon as he wakes up.

Harry doesn’t look as if he cares that much—he’s blinking tiredly, and it’s not one of his early alone-time mornings so he’s a little more bleary-eyed. Harry rubs the sleep from his eyes, blinks, and then grabs for his glasses, shoving it on his face.

“That’s great, mate. Tell me a bit about it after I...wake up,” Harry mutters around a yawn, and then he slides into the bathroom, presumably to become a little more human.

Ron goes through his morning routine with a sense of purpose. He ties his tie a little too tight, and he rolls up the sleeves of his sweaters. Looking into the mirror, he nods. He’s Ron _fucking_ Weasley. He’s going to ask his lovely girlfriend if she wants to go to the Burrow for Christmas dinner. She’s going to say yes—maybe. It’s going to be perfect.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Seamus asks nervously.

“Because Seamus, it’s going to be a bloody good day,” Ron says firmly.

Loudly. Because he’s confident.

He’s completely confident.

“Well, there’s no need to shout,” Seamus mutters.

“Why _are_ you shouting?” Harry finally asks, having finally pulled himself together. He pads out of the bathroom in just his towel, moving far too slowly for the kind of morning it is. It’s a morning of determination and _doing_ things and _learning_ things, and it’s like Harry didn’t receive the flying memo.

“I’m going to ask Lavender to the Burrow for Christmas,” Ron repeats plainly because he doesn’t understand how that’s still not clicking with Harry.

Harry blinks as he starts to dress himself. He reaches for his glasses and shoves them properly onto his face again, and he nods. “Oh. Wow, you’re finally going to do it?” Harry asks.

“What’s the tone of surprise?” Ron demands.

Harry snorts. “You’ve been putting it off for so long, I thought you gave up.”

Ron flips the bird at him.

Harry laughs as he finishes getting ready, taking _far_ too long for Ron. When they finally charge down the stairs, only Hermione is waiting. Ron grabs Hermione by teh shoulders and very swiftly moves her to the side, peering up at the girls’ dormitory.

“Hey!” Hermione squawks.

“Is Lavender still up there? She shouldn’t be. She’s been waking up earlier to do her hair so that she’ll be at breakfast on time,” Ron says distractedly.

Hermione glares. “Um, _rude_ ,” she says, shoving him away. “Lavender went to breakfast early with Luna. They’re finalizing potential venues for New Year’s today and they want to send out the invitations before class.”

“Bugger,” Ron whispers, because that means he has even _less_ time than usual to actually ask her.

“Now, what’s going on?” Hermione demands. “You’re being more mad than usual.”

“I’m going to ask Lavender to Christmas. Now, come on,” Ron insists as he charges out of the common room, leading Hermione and Harry for a change.

He’s determined.

“Oh, he’s finally going to do that?” Hermione asks conversationally.

Harry hums rather skeptically. “That’s what he _says_ , but I have my doubts.”

“I can hear you,” Ron bites out, rather savagely, as he takes the moving staircases two at a time, his satchel bouncing against his thigh.

“Yeah, we know,” Hermione says, amusement coloring her voice.

The Great Hall is loud as they approach, and Ron skids to a stop in the doorway, as he searches the Gryffindor table.

And then, he sees her, and he can’t help but smile.

She’s sitting next to Luna at the Gryffindor table, peering down at something. He can tell by the way she’s talking that she’s being rather bossy—bad habit that she probably picked up from _Hermione_. Ginny sits across from them, probably adding some smart ass comments.

He’s going to do it. He’s going to ask her.

Ron stands tall and marches forward, Harry and Hermione suspiciously quiet behind him. Ron slides into the seat next to Ginny and Harry sits on the other side.

“Oh, good morning,” Lavender says with a smile.

“Morning, Lav,” Ron says, returning her smile. “Lu, Gin.”

“Ronald Bilius,” Ginny drawls.

Lavender sits up taller, giggling to herself. “ _Bilius_?”

“It’s a family name,” Ron says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hermione slides into the last open seat on the other side of Lavender and gives a pointed look at Ron behind Lavender’s back.

Ron very carefully turns away and looks down at the table. “Ah, bacon,” he declares.

Ron makes his plate. He can feel the weight of Harry and Ginny’s eyes on him. He pretends that they’re both not staring at him rather obviously, and instead grabs the bacon and sausage. He takes a bite of the bacon and sighs, because it always tastes best hot.

He’s chill. He’s being chill.

Ginny elbows him.

“What?” he snaps.

Ginny glares at him and tilts her head consideringly towards Lavender. Lavender’s not paying _him_ any attention. She’s caught in a very in-depth conversation with Hermione over her current Arithmancy project. Ron smiles quietly to himself. Lavender is brilliant, truly, brilliant enough that she’s keeping up with whatever nonsense that Hermione is saying about numbers and predictive futures.

He sighs to himself.

_His mum is going to love her._

“What?” Lavender asks.

Oh, _shit_.

“Did I say that out loud?” Ron asks.

Harry presses his lips into a thin line to keep from laughing.

Ginny groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Ron, you did.”

“Oh. Well. My mum would love you, Lav,” Ron declares. Lavender’s lips curl into a confused smile. Ron clears his throat and leans over the table, reaching for her free hand. “Hey, uh...I want you to meet her. On Christmas. For dinner. And my family too. If you like.”

Hermione slaps a hand to her forehead.

Lavender stares at him for a long time. And then, she jumps up until she’s kneeling on the edge of the bench and she reaches over, taking his face in two hands. He expects to be thoroughly snogged, but Lavender just lays a soft kiss on his lips.

She pulls back just a breath and then whispers, “ _Yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Ron is done! But, we'll be revisiting his story on Christmas Day, so don't you worry!
> 
> Now, we're on to Miss Luna Lovegood in WHITE WINTER HYMNAL.


	7. TUESDAY, 12:03 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which luna has a pen pal.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "I was following the pack, all swallowed in their coats  
> With scarves of red tied 'round their throats  
> To keep their little heads from fallin' in the snow  
> And I turned 'round and there you go  
> And, Michael, you would fall and turn the white snow  
> Red as strawberries in the summertime"
> 
> -White Winter Hymnal, as covered by Birdy

_ Dear Rolf, _

_ Your last letter reached me just a few days ago, and it took me quite some time to find the words to respond. My excitement at the news of a potential Aquavirius Maggots sent me into quite the tizzy. I could barely find the words, truly. I’m so incredibly envious of you, my friend. Though I would never trade my education at Hogwarts—or my friends—for anything, your life is just so fascinating. You get to travel the world with your grandparents, searching for creatures that my friends don’t even believe exist. _

_ But, nevermind, soon I’ll be able to join you. I’ll show you my Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn. It’s quite delicate, but I’m so incredibly excited to do more research with other knowledgeable persons. I’ve included one of my sketches on the Snorkack’s potential shape. If you could show your grandfather, I would greatly appreciate his commentary. And yours too, my friend. I would love to see what you think of its general shape. These are all theories so far, I am open to criticism. _

_ Next time you write, tell me about where you are and where you’ve gone. I want to know more than creatures. I want to know more than the Isle. Tell me everything, and I’ll tell you everything in return. _

_ Your friend, _

_ Luna Lovegood _

* * *

“I’m trusting you, alright?” Luna says solemnly as she offers her letter up to the great horned owl’s beak. “I’m not sure where he is. He could be anywhere. They’re quite nomadic. A bit like one of your friend’s, the snowy owl. But, I have all my faith that you’ll find him. Rolf Scamander, please.”

The horned owl snatches it from her hand, and then, he’s off, flapping out of Owlery and soaring through the air. Luna rushes to the window, sticking her head out and she beams, watching the owl until he’s only a tiny dot in the white sky. She pulls back, and hums.

It looks like another fresh round of snow today.

Luna pulls her wand and casts, “ _ Tempus _ .”

Oh, she’s  _ late _ .

Luna grabs her bag off from the floor and spins to look at the rest of the Owlery. “Goodbye, my friends! I’ll see you again soon!” she calls, and then, she races out of the Owlery, taking the spiral stairs down two at a time.

Luna dodges a Hufflepuff going up to the Owlery and shouts a hello, even though she’s not sure if she actually knows her. Maybe she does. She thinks they might be in Care for Magical Creatures with her and Ginny.

Luna finally gets to the moving stairs.

There’s a trick to this that she doesn’t think many have figured out just yet. When she runs down the stairs, she strokes the bannisters, like one might run their fingers along the spine of a dragon. The stairs shudder and purr underneath her feet, but they stay in place, and sometimes, even move to accommodate her.

This time, the stairs swing around, bringing her to the nearest landing.

“Thanks!” she calls, her voice echoing and then she runs down the main stairs, only slowing when she’s going into the Entrance Hall and nearly crashes into Professor Flitwick.

“No running in the halls, Miss Lovegood,” Professor Flitwick warns with a twinkle in his eye. Luna has always thought that he has a soft spot for her, which is nice, because she has a soft spot for her Head of House too.

He’s a kind man, and has always heard her even when she didn’t say a word out loud.

Luna gets to the doorway of the Great Hall and then she stops.

She’s breathing hard, and she finally allows herself to catch her breath.

Luna remembers a time where she’d never ran to lunch. She’d skip, because there is joy in skipping, in floating, in believing—this is what her mother taught her—but she’d never run. There was never anything to run to. She remembers a time where she hadn’t had shoes on her feet, just trainers dangling from the rafters.

She  _ remembers _ because it’s something she doesn’t  _ know  _ anymore.

Luna’s trainers are tied on her feet.

And when she enters the Great Hall and she sees them.

The Ginny Weasley Defence Squad.

They’re all squabbling with each other, talking over one another. Pansy is sitting with them today, one arm thrown over Hermione’s shoulders, watching amused as Ron and Ginny bark across the table at one another, probably shouting about Quidditch. Harry is talking quietly to Lavender about something, and then, he looks up and sees Luna.

Lavender turns in her seat and then she half-stands, holding out her hand.

“Luna! We saved a seat for you!” Lavender calls, cheerfully, her voice carrying over the lunch din. “I wanted to know what you think about this drink menu.”

Luna grins and she  _ runs  _ to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go. First, so, I realized that HEX was always SO much work. I totally forgot lmao. This was late and I'm really sorry. I'll post Wednesday today, though, so don't worry about that! Most of Luna's SHOULD be on time, but I'm trying to write Pansy in advance too, because Tom's is...Tom's is gonna take some BRAIN POWER.
> 
> And I'm currently on deadline for other non-fic writing stuff, so HEX isn't really my priority, but I WILL finish the special this month!
> 
> I promise!


	8. WEDNESDAY, 4:55 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they visit the thestrals, but they're not sad anymore.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "Mice move out when the field is cut  
> Serpents curl when the sun comes up  
> Songbirds only end up where they're going
> 
> Some get rain and some get snow  
> Some want love and some want gold  
> I just want to see you in the morning"
> 
> \- Autumn Town Leaves, Iron & Wine

“Merlin, they’re lovely,” Luna says with a tiny smile. She pulls Phillip closer, pressing a kiss to her snout and rubbing her face into her skeletal neck. She adores her. She’s going to miss her when she graduates, she thinks.

“I never used to think they were. They terrified me, the first time I saw them,” Harry says quietly. “I didn’t understand. When I did...it just made me sad.”

“Oh, I remember,” Luna says with a tiny smile.

She _does_ remember. She remembers the before-time, when she didn’t have anyone. And now, she has Harry. She has the others too. But, right now, she has Harry, and she remembers a time he didn’t really have anyone either.

Of course, he had Hermione and Ron, but there was a time where he hid his grief. He hid his rage, and made it like air. Now, he lives in it. It crackles in him, and she can nearly see it just under his skin. The wrackspurts could see it too, back then, so they’d gravitated towards him. Now, that Harry’s doing better and healing, the wrackspurts are all but gone.

“Are you looking forward to Christmas, Luna?” Harry asks.

Luna hums. “Yes, I do think so. I love Christmas. And I miss my father. I think he misses me too.”

“I’m sure he does, you’ve been sending so many letters back and forth lately,” Harry says. He sighs and Luna knows that he wants to talk about it. But, he won’t ever _say_ that he wants to talk about whatever’s on his mind, so it’s up to Luna to coax it out by offering a bit of information.

“I haven’t been writing to my father,” she admits. Luna bites her bottom lip and twists on the fencing, turning to look Harry in the eye. “Can you keep a secret?”

Harry straightens, giving her an amused look. “Yes?”

“I’ve been writing a boy,” Luna admits. “His name is Rolf Scamander.”

“ _Scamander_?” Harry asks. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“Because his grandfather is Newt Scamander, who wrote _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Last summer, father and I met Mr. Newt, his wife Porpentina, and his grandson, Rolf, when we were on the continent,” Luna explains.

She isn’t sure why she never said anything before. It isn’t like her friends hadn’t been interested in her and her father’s expeditions over the summer. Hermione had seemed even _more_ interested than normal, properly intrigued in the information that Luna had to offer her. For the first time, Luna thought that Hermione might have well belonged to Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor.

“Luna, _wow_ ,” Harry whispers in awe. “You met a famous person. Someone interested in what _you’re_ interested in.”

Luna beams. “I know! And Mr. Newt, he...he offered me an internship next summer. So, I’ve been writing Rolf—who tells his grandfather—about all of my theories and proposals, so that he might still be impressed,” Luna explains almost shyly.

She doesn’t add that it helps that Rolf Scamander is quite cute with his freckles and funny ears. She thinks she might be blushing, and when she looks at Harry, he’s looking at her with _that_ look.

“You like him too, though,” Harry presses.

Luna hums. “How would you know? You couldn’t even tell that you liked Tom,” Luna sings.

Harry blanches. “Hey!” he snaps. Luna giggles into her palm and twists forward, watching Phillip lope around the pen with her foal that isn’t very much of a foal anymore. Harry’s tension leaks away and he groans, swinging his legs. “Can’t believe you already know what you’re going to do next summer. I’m graduating and I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

 _Ah, there it is_ , Luna realizes. Or at least, that’s the start of it.

“You don’t need to know right now,” Luna says softly.

Harry laughs self-disparagingly. “Tom said something like that once. And now...I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m _good_ at anything.”

“You’re the Duellist of the Year,” Luna points out.

“Duelling isn’t a _job_. It’s for fun—”

“You’re a really good TA and duelling captain. You do a good job, Harry,” Luna interrupts. She looks up at snowy skies and smiles to herself, shaking her head. “You overthink things, Harry. Sometimes, the answers will come to you right away. Sometimes, they won’t come to you right away. But, they always do come. I promise.”

Harry looks at her with a small smile. “Who taught you that kind of wisdom?”

Luna doesn’t answer aloud, but she knows. She knows the answer.

 _My mother_.

“Come on. It’s nearly time for duelling, Harry. The captain can’t be late,” Luna says, hopping off the fence. She offers a hand to Harry, waiting for him.

Harry takes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oooofff this is late. I'm sorry. This is late and shorter than I wanted it to be. Luna is SO hard to really get. I'm getting a little frustrated, but I'm trying to really work out what I want to say for her. Hopefully, the next few chapters will start making more sense, despite the shorter length.


	9. THURSDAY, 10:02 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which luna is one of the few that understands that intelligence can be emotional too.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "And there's nothing like a mad woman  
> What a shame she went mad  
> No one likes a mad woman  
> You made her like that  
> And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out  
> And you find something to wrap your noose around  
> And there's nothing like a mad woman"
> 
> -mad woman, taylor swift

Luna’s going to be late to the meeting.

It’s not a real meeting. Not an official meeting.

But, Lavender had said it with such authority at breakfast— _we’re meeting in the courtyard at break to discuss the party_ —that no one had challenged her. Not even Hermione, who usually spent all of break studying or snogging her girlfriend and pretending that that wasn’t where she’d disappeared to. So, Luna is going to be late.

She doesn’t think Lavender will be particularly upset by that, not when she realizes _why_.

You see, Luna has had an idea. She thinks that she’s figured out a way to enchant the mason jars to float perpetually, and she’s been having discussions with the sprites at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, whom have promised to spare her some of their sparkling dust for the low price of a cork, a Butterbeer cap, and sweet whipping cream—a treat.

So, Lavender will have to forgive her, because Luna is going to make their rented space in Hogsmeade beautiful.

That rented space that they still haven’t found a way to finance yet.

Oh, dear. Maybe _that_ was Luna’s assigned duty.

Well, then—

“Is that _Loony_ Lovegood?”

When Luna turns, she sees a pair of fourth years. Luna can’t quite remember the last time she was called ‘Loony’ by someone other than Ron, and Ron only calls her that out of his teasing nature—the kind cultivated by years of older brothers. She stares at the fourth years—a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin—and she can’t help but _laugh_.

“Yes, it’s me,” she says with a smile.

The Slytherin girl falters, exchanging a confused look with the Ravenclaw boy. Luna thinks she might recognize him. Maybe that’s where they learned that name. Sometimes, the other Ravenclaws, the ones her year that have forgotten that _they_ named her that, out of the unkindness in their hearts, might call her that as a sweet nickname.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

The Ravenclaw boy opens his mouth and then closes it. “Why are you talking to yourself, Loony? Your friends left you?”

“I find talking to myself greatly assists in working through my thoughts. It’s like a conversation, but not,” Luna says simply. She tilts her head, still staring at the pair of them, unable to swallow her amusement. “You didn’t answer my question. What can I help you with?”

“Nothing,” the Slytherin girl spits.

Luna stares at the Ravenclaw boy. “I’ve seen you in the Ravenclaw Tower. You sometimes struggle with Charms. Do you need help? I’m quite good at Charms,” Luna says.

Her father used to say that she got it from her mother, until he’d realized that that was true, that she _was_ gifted in Charms like her mother. Now, he doesn’t say things like that at all. Luna thinks it’s because the idea that she might be gifted and brilliant like her mother is terrifying.

The boy flushes a terrible red. “N-no—” he says, in a way that means _yes_ , but he won’t say yes because he doesn’t want to lose face in front of his friend.

Luna thinks he might fancy her. She thinks she might fancy him back, and she has half a mind to tell them so they don’t waste so much time like Tom and Harry did.

“We don’t need _anything_ from a crazy—”

“Ten points off from Slytherin.”

The Slytherin girl swallows back her insult and pales as the Head Girl sweeps between Luna and the strange little fourth years.

Hermione has changed so much in the past year, Luna notes.

She’s gone from self-righteous to just righteous, and moody to powerful. She stands taller, and prouder, and she’d made fattah bel mozah for them on her birthday.

“What’s going on here?” Hermione growls.

“I—Granger—” the Slytherin stutters.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw too,” Hermione barks. “Now, get to lunch before I give you detention for bullying.”

The fourth years fly off in terror, rushing back down the corridor where they came from. Luna watches the tension leak out of Hermione’s back, and Hermione takes one deep sweeping breath, before she spins around to look at Luna.

Her eyes are softer than they had sounded. “Are you alright?” Hermione asks, briskly but not unkindly.

“I’m fine,” Luna says with a shrug.

“I heard them from the beginning,” Hermione says apologetically. She takes a step closer, sweeping Luna’s long blonde hair from her shoulders. Hermione isn’t very tall, but she’s taller than Luna, and she _feels_ tall. Hermione feels like a giant sometimes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What do you mean? They asked me a question,” Luna says.

Hermione frowns. “They...they were trying to be mean, Luna,” she says, like Luna is stupid.

Luna is _not_ stupid.

“I know. But, it didn’t bother me all that much,” Luna says.

Hermione sighs. “Luna, you have to stand up for yourself.”

“Hermione,” Luna says with the same intonation, surprising the other girl. She smiles up at her. “Thanks for defending me, but I didn’t really need it. They weren’t hurting anyone.”

Hermione’s brow furrows.

“They...didn’t hurt your feelings?”

“Not really,” Luna laughs. “How could they? First, they're only fourth years. They could barely hurt each other, let alone me. Second...people have tried to pick on me...all my life. They think that I’m...odd. And maybe, I am odd. I _like_ that I’m odd. So when people point it out, it doesn’t really bother me.”

“That doesn’t mean they should say that,” Hermione says firmly. She looks furious on Luna’s behalf, and Luna’s entire heart softens.

“Hermione, thanks,” Luna says gently. She clears her throat. “Can I tell you something that I’ve observed?”

Hermione straightens and she nods. “Always.”

Luna takes a deep breath. “People only pick on people when they feel small. They feel small so they want others to feel small too. So, you see why that doesn’t work on me, yes?” Luna asks.

Hermione gives her a look of dawning comprehension. “I...I suppose.”

“Yes,” Luna agrees. “It’s because where they’re small...I feel larger than a dragon.”


	10. FRIDAY, 8:22 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which luna is finally unsettled.

“Luna, thank  _ Merlin _ , you’re here,” Ginny gasps as she wrenches the door open and invites Luna inside to chaos.

The room is an explosion of color, fabric tossed back and forth. Some of the Gryffindor girls are skirting back and forth, shouting to one another about which dress to wear, what dress not to wear, if that dress makes their arse look good, or if their breasts look nice. Luna has half a mind to tell them all that they’re perfectly lovely and they always are, but she doesn’t think that’d be very appreciated at the moment.

“What can I do to help?” Luna asks as Ginny runs back to her trunk, going through everything.

“This is the last party of the year before ours and I can’t find anything to  _ wear _ ,” Ginny mutters. “None of my dresses really  _ fit  _ right anymore because of training this past summer.”

“You are much more powerfully built now,” Luna acknowledges, though really, Ginny has always been made of compact muscle. It’s just a little more noticeable now. She still looks  _ gorgeous _ . “Lavender might have something for you?”

Ginny snorts out a laugh. “I already asked her for a dress. She’s searching. If she can’t find anything, do you think she’ll Transfigure something I already have?”

“Yes,” Luna says simply. “You might even turn into a pumpkin at the end of the night?”

Luna read something like that once. Or she thinks that a story like that was read to her. She can’t quite remember. Her childhood is a blur, and she likes to keep it that way, most of the time.

“A  _ pumpkin _ ?” Ginny sputters. “She’s Transfiguring a dress, not  _ me _ .”

“Hmm...maybe I remembered that wrong,” Luna says to herself.

Ginny laughs, leaning in to kiss both of Luna’s cheeks. “Don’t ever change, Luna.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Luna says matter of factly. She sighs and lifts her makeup bag, a tiny little pouch made of vegan dragonhide. “I have to do my makeup.”

“Brilliant,” Ginny says distractedly as she dives into her trunk and pulls out a bit of gold liner. It’s broken into several pieces. “Damn. Could you do mine after I find something to wear?”

“Of course,” Luna says pleasantly.

As she walks through the cluster of other Gryffindor girls, she can hear a familiar voice.

“Ginevra!” Lavender calls as she descends the spiral staircase from the seventh year girls dormitory. “I’m here to save the day.”

Luna will see her in just a bit, so she doesn’t mind. She slips into the bathroom and hums as she sets her makeup back on the sink. Luna looks in the mirror and smooths out her dress. It’s like liquid silver against her skin. It’s one of Luna’s favorite dresses. She likes to dress comfy most of the time, but this is a satiny frock that she had seen in the window of Madame Malkin’s once, and her father had  _ seen  _ how she looked at it.

He’d insisted that they go inside and she try it on.

Her father had looked at her in it for only a second before he passed her the coins and waited outside. They’d never talked about it.

Luna sighs and pinches her own cheeks, bringing some color to her pale face. She feels like the moon, ethereal and alone in the night space.

Even still, she won’t be alone anymore soon. Lavender hates having to wait, and she doesn’t want to be the reason that they get to the Hufflepuff Common Room late. She’ll leave that to Ginny, who is definitely the most behind.

Luna stands in the mirror and carefully applies silver liner to her eyes. She dusts gold shimmer along her cheekbones and turns herself into the Fae of old. Luna weaves Flutterby flowers into her braid. She is ethereal. She is lovely. She—

“You look beautiful, Lu,” Ginny says as she dances past Luna to go to the mirror next to her. Ginny is dressed in a dark green number, definitely borrowed from Lavender. It’s been adjusted, draping over her body just right, cutting short across her freckled thighs. Luna doesn’t imagine that Ginny will wear heels with it like Lavender might’ve.

Ginny is definitely a trainers and dress girl. Luna swallows and tears her gaze away from Ginny, and confronts the thought that she had tried to swallow back.

Luna grabs at the porcelain, anchoring herself there and she takes a deep shuddering breath.

Luna looks like her mother.

And that...frightens her.


	11. SUNDAY, 4:35PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, we go back to the forest again.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "Daddy's ghost behind you  
> Sleeping dog beside you  
> You're a poem of mystery  
> You're the prayer inside me  
> Spoken words like moonlight  
> You're the voice that I like  
> Needlework and seedlings  
> In the way you're walking  
> To me from the timbers  
> Faded from the winter"
> 
> -Faded From The Winter, Iron & Wine

“Have you ever thought of riding a thestral?” Harry asks suddenly after a long bout of silence. They’re sitting on top of the fencing again, watching Phillip and her not-foal, and the rest of the thestrals going back and forth in their paddock.

Sometimes, Luna thinks about what thestrals think about all day. She wonders if they think about the ones they lost or the ones that they’ve been given. She thinks about whether or not they know that the only people that can see them are those that have been ravaged by grief, scarred with the immeasurable feeling of having loved and lost.

“Hmm, sometimes, I’m not sure if they would like it,” Luna says calmly. She sighs, and scratches at the fence post next to her, pretending that she doesn’t notice Harry’s not-very-covert glances sent her way.

“Luna,” Harry starts and then stops. He just looks at her.

He’s waiting for Luna. She wants to tell him. So, she decides to.

“I started seeing thestrals when I was nine,” Luna whispers softly, her voice cracking. _Oh, she didn’t mean for that to happen._ She clears her throat and flexes her fingers against the wood, holding on for dear life. “Wait. Let me go back. My mother was an extraordinary witch. She was brilliant. And she was experimental with her Charms. When I was nine, she was doing one of her run-of-the-mill experiments. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t _different_. But, it...ended. Horribly.”

Harry is staring at her. She can see the green of his eyes if she just looks slightly to the left. She frowns hard down at the dirt of the paddock, fighting the pressure in her eyes.

“Oh, Luna,” Harry whispers.

“No. It’s fine. It’s okay,” Luna breathes, shaking her head. She trembles. “I saw it happened. I wasn’t supposed to be watching. Mama always told me to stay out of her workshop because she didn’t want me to get...hurt.”

“But, you did get hurt,” Harry murmurs. “It still hurts.”

“It still _hurts_ ,” Luna repeats, her voice crackling again and she wants to _weep_. She wants to so badly, but she can’t. She doesn’t know why. She feels so heavy with it, and still soaring, all at the same time. “It’s why I’ve always understood you. Why I feel such a kinship with you. Because you...you saw too. And you understand that it still hurts. Not all the time. But, it does.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees with a tiny nod. A sad smile crosses his face. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Luna thinks about that for a long time.

“I thought...that I was okay. I usually feel okay,” Luna finally says.

“I thought I was okay too,” Harry says quietly. Luna looks up at him sharply, turning to look at him. “I thought I was okay for a long time. I didn’t realize that what i was feeling _wasn’t_ okay. The anger. And I think sometimes, it has to do with how my Muggle family treated me. Sometimes, I think it’s about going through the custody thing. Sometimes, I even think it’s about Tom. Or what happened with...Krum.”

Harry doesn’t talk about Krum. He almost never talks about Krum. When he does, it’s like he goes hazy at the edges. He gets quieter. But, he always drags himself back. Luna watches him come back, waits for him to come forward again.

Harry takes a deep shuddering breath.

“And sometimes, I realize...it’s grief. It comes and goes. Sometimes, I wake up and I feel so... _sad,_ ” Harry breathes. He laughs to himself, shaky and terrible. He gnaws at his bottom lip. “And I _miss_ them. My mum and dad. Bone deep. _Marrow_ deep. I think about how there is a gaping wound sometimes, where nothing can touch me. But...that’s okay. To feel that way sometimes. Sometimes, I’m not okay.”

“Really?” Luna asks, voice small.

“I learned something...in my Mind Healing sessions. One of the most important lessons: there’s no timeline on grief, Luna,” Harry says, looking up at the sky. “It’s just...always there. And sometimes, you don’t feel it. And sometimes, you do. And that’s okay.”

 _And that’s okay_.

“My father...my father says I look just like mother,” Luna whispers. She looks down at her knobby knees, picking at them through the thick wool stockings keeping the chill away. “I try...I try not to think about that. I don’t look at her pictures very often. I’m afraid that I’ll remember.”

Luna doesn’t _want_ to remember. It hurts to do so.

“I look at my mum’s pictures all the time. I’m afraid that I’ll forget,” Harry forgets.

Two halves of the same Galleon.

Luna has never felt more seen.

“Wow,” Harry hiccups, his voice thick with emotion. “I guess we’re a little sub-group of the Ginny Weasley Defence Squad.”

“Oh, yeah? What are we called?” Luna teases.

“The Dead Moms Club,” Harry says morbidly.

There’s a beat of silence, and then, Luna starts to giggle. It’s a bubbling sound that quickly grows and grows until there’s nowhere for it to go but out, and it’s loud. Luna throws her head back and _laughs_ , loud enough that it startles the thestrals. Loud enough that she sends ravens flapping from the overhanging branches. She can’t _stop_ laughing, because it’s so absurd.

It’s so _real_.

And it hurts. And yet, it’s still funny.

Slowly, _slowly_ , her laughter tapers off and she sags into Harry’s side, her head falling onto his shoulder.

“Harry?” Luna asks, softly, and her voice cracks on his name, but she doesn’t mind, because here, she knows that she’s safe.

“Yeah?”

“I think my mum would’ve really liked you,” Luna admits softly.

Harry looks down at her and smiles widely. “I think my mum would’ve really liked you too.”


	12. MONDAY, 10:33 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there is a snowball fight.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "Summer gone, now winter's on its way  
> I will miss the days we had  
> The days we had  
> I will miss the days we had  
> The days we had  
> Oh, I'll miss the days we had"
> 
> -Winter Song, The Head and the Heart

The morning cuts sharp across Luna’s eyes, a jarring yet  _ lovely _ white that makes her nearly go blind.

“Oh, wow, it  _ really  _ snowed last night,” Hermione breathes, twisting around to look at the courtyard. Where just yesterday, there had been the barest amount of frost, tipping the dead grass, there was nothing but a clean sheet of fresh powder, just interrupted by the late morning runners as they rushed across to the Great Hall before breakfast.

“It’s so wet and gross,” Lavender sniffs, her nose wrinkling.

“It looks  _ amazing _ ,” Ginny crows and she flings herself forward, laughing as she falls into the snow.

Luna’s lips twitch.

“You’re going to catch your death!” Hermione squawks and then she pulls out her wand. She gave a complicated wave that sent a blast of hot air at Ginny drying her clothes, and then another twist.

“Okay,  _ Mum _ ,” Ginny says, and then, she pauses. “Did you...repel the cold?”

“Why, yes I did,” Hermione says bossily, her hands on her hips.

Harry jumps up. “Me next!”

“No, me!” Ron insists, shoving Harry out of the way, right into the tiny snowdrift.

Harry grunts as he lands and Ron throws his arms out. Luna pulls her wand.

“Oh, wait—” Ron starts, and then Luna casts the exact same charms as Hermione. Ron shudders and he stares at Luna for a long time. “I forget that you’re a Ravenclaw.”

“I’m quite good at Charms,” Luna says matter-of-factly.

“Right you are, Lu,” Ron says, clapping her on the shoulder. He turns around and tugs Harry out of the snow. Harry shoves him right back and Ron laughs. “You can’t hurt me, Potter. Lu set my protections already.”

“Fuck off,” Harry mutters, though he can’t stop smiling.

Luna casts her own charms and then, they’re all standing there, staring at one another in anticipation, all except for Lavender. Luna bends over quite slowly and begins to gather a snowball, her eyes sharp.

“This is the first snowball of winter!” Luna declares, lifting it above her head.

“You sound like a train conductor,” Lavender says flatly.

“Of what? The Polar Express?” Ginny asks, sticking her tongue out.

For some odd reason, Hermione snorts, like that means something to her.

Luna twists, suddenly, throwing the snowball right at Ginny’s chest. Ginny grunts and nearly falls back, a giggle exploding past her lips. She rolls with it, and then they’re all flinging snowballs at one another. Luna feels like she’s lost herself to childhood again, and she loves it. She thrives in it. She twists around and sees that she has  _ friends  _ to have snowball fights with.

She has her people. She has people that  _ mean  _ something to her, and the ache that has been in her chest for days eases, just a little bit. It doesn’t disappear. It doesn’t really go anywhere. But, she feels it just a little less.

They take a brief moment of rest, where they’re all breathing heavily, grinning. Ginny’s face is pink underneath her freckles, like her brother’s. Luna probably looks the same.

“Are you just going to sit there forever, love?” Ron asks, turning to look at Lavender where she sits on the windowsill. Lavender jumps off and crosses her arms over chest, staring at all of them with raised eyebrows.

“I am  _ very  _ busy, Ronald,” Lavender insists. “I have to finish planning the New Year’s party and Luna, you’re supposed to be  _ helping _ .”

“But, right now?” Luna asks breathlessly. “That doesn’t sound like  _ fun _ .”

She wants to have  _ fun _ . She wants to feel nine again, nine before her mother was gone and she and her father were alone. She wants to feel young. 

“Aren’t we too old to participate in snowball fights?” Lavender whinges.

“You started a paint fight last term!” Hermione insists.

Lavender pauses for a moment and she frowns down at the snow, like it’s just told her the most complicated of secrets. And then, she looks up again. “You’re right,” she says with a shrug and then she flings a compact snowball right at Hermione’s face.

Luna squeals with laughter as it meets its target and Hermione topples over into the snow.

“Mione?”

Luna turns as she sees Pansy, Milicent Bulstrode, and Daphne Greengrass standing there. Pansy’s eyes flash.

“Mione!” she repeats. “I’ll avenge you!”

And then, she’s running through the snow, gathering the powder in both hands before she launches them at Lavender. Lavender cries out just as Ron dives in front of her, taking the blow. Luna doubles over with her laughter as it turns into all out war. She stands in the middle of it, ducking and twisting out of the way and suddenly, she’s hiding behind a tree, Harry pressed up next to her.

He looks down at her and smiles.

“Told you it wasn’t linear,” he says elbowing her in the side.

Luna burbles with laughter and she nods. “Together?” she whispers, bending over to gather a snowball in her freezing hands.

“Together,” Harry decides and they go to war.


	13. TUESDAY, 5:22 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Pansy hasn't spoken to him in months.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "What the fuck do I know? I'm alone  
> 'Cause I couldn't be somebody's hero  
> You want an apology? Not from me  
> Had to leave you in your own misery  
> So tell me, baby, am I wrong that I moved on?  
> And I, and I don't even miss you  
> Thought that it'd be you until I die  
> But I let go, what the fuck do I know? (Oh)"
> 
> WTF Do I Know - Miley Cyrus

“Can we go to _dinner_ ?” Milicent groans. “I’m _starving_.”

“Almost done, almost done,” Pansy says distractedly. She cracks her neck, squirming in her seat to get comfortable—it’s a side-effect of the new medication she’s on. Stiff limbs and a wavy brain. Whatever that means. She thinks it might be that it takes her a little more to concentrate, and Milicent and Daphne _know_ that.

“You’re always _almost_ done,” Daphne sighs. “You and your egghead girlfriend are a _nightmare_.”

Pansy’s mouth twitches. “She’d take that as a compliment if she heard you say that,” she murmurs to herself, and she sets her quill down, gnawing on her bottom lip, because, wow, now she’s thinking about her girlfriend.

Merlin. Hermione looked...so good today. She always looks good, but this morning, she’d had her hair in two puffs on the top of her head and Pansy had seen her take _points_ , and Merlin, she was so sexy when she got bossy—

“You’re thinking about her,” Daphne sings, her disdain exchanged for amusement.

“I’m always thinking about her,” Pansy says, looking up, flashing a smirk.

Milicent’s nose wrinkles. “Ew, don’t think about her like _that_.”

“I can’t. My girlfriend is hot,” Pansy says.

Her _girlfriend_ . Sometimes, it feels so fake. Because how could someone like Hermione Jinan Granger want Pansy? Pansy is smart, but she’s not as smart as Hermione. Hermione is brilliant and fiery and gorgeous, and Pansy can barely do magic on a _good_ day, without her runes.

“She is. Who knows what she sees in you,” Milicent says, her lips pressed into a line.

“Hey!” Pansy squawks.

Daphne snorts. “Don’t you know? Hermione Granger likes that Pansy’s _tall_ ,” Daphne teases. She rolls her eyes when Pansy sticks her tongue out at her. “You two do make a good couple though. I bett Theo jerks off to the two of you.”

“He better _not_ ,” Pansy warns.

“You know he was _crushed_ when you started dating Granger. He’s fancied her since we were eleven,” Daphne continues.

“No, he hasn’t!” Pansy snaps. Theodore Nott is a squirmy little sixth year, nowhere near as talented as his older brother—he was forever bitter that Riddle had snapped him up to make the Notts a matched set like his Lestranges—and has _no_ chance with Hermione. Even forgetting that she’s a lesbian.

“He has,” Daphne smirks.

Pansy flips her off and Daphne laughs into her sleeve.

“Anyway, can you finish up so we can go to dinner? I need to send off my Christmas list to my parents,” Milicent says firmly.

“Aren’t you too old for a Christmas list?” Pansy asks distractedly. She is _almost_ done with this entrance essay to the Runes program in Paris. She’s saving the Oslo program last. Both she and Hermione want to work on it together.

“No, are you?” Milicent bites out.

Pansy shrugs. “I don’t think I’m doing Christmas this year.”

“What do you mean you’re not doing Christmas?” Daphne demands.

Pansy sighs. “Hermione is Muslim. She doesn’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Muslim?” Daphne asks curiously.

“Her religion is called Islam. She’s Muslimah. She believes in Allah,” Pansy starts. She frowns down at her essay and then shakes her head, setting her quill down because she can’t focus on explaining Islam to her friends _and_ writing this essay about Rune theory at the same time. “She’s a Muggleborn. She was raised in a religion called Islam. She’s Muslim.”

“And they don’t celebrate Christmas?” Daphne asks. “Is Christmas religious?”

“Well, I mean...it’s named after ‘Christ’,” Milicent says smartly. “The old generation calls it Yule, but we call it Christmas. Probably because of the influx of Muggleborns in the past century or so.”

Daphne frowns. “What is a Christ? Is that a disease?”

“No! It’s Jesus,” Milicent snaps.

“Who the fuck is Jesus?” Daphne demands.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Pansy groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, look, Hermione doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so we’re going on a date. It’s going to be very cute and everything.”

“But, what about the Ball?” Daphne asks.

Pansy glares down at the tabletop. She’s been trying not think about the Ball.

Every year since she was practically a fetus, she’s gone to the Malfoys’ Christmas Ball. She missed it last year because she was too ill. She misses the bubbly champagne, the shiny giant ornaments hanging from the ceilings, chasing the albino peacocks. She misses—

“Pans.”

It’s like her thoughts have manifested him.

Pansy has barely seen Draco all year. She tries not to see him. It hurts too much.

He’s made himself scarce too. She almost never sees him in the Common Room or in the courtyard. He hasn’t been hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle much anymore either. Pansy has heard rumors that he hangs out with Zabini a little more and Zabini doesn’t actually have an issue with him anymore. Pansy wonders if that means that he’s apologized for being a right arse to Ginny Weasley.

She’s seen him one other time—the beginning of the year when he’d tried to come up to her to ask after her health. To ask after Hermione. Pansy had shut him down. He’d looked tired.

Draco looks tired now, too.

Paler in all black. He doesn’t quite meet her eyes, choosing to stare at her hands.

“Malfoy,” Pansy says, very carefully chilling her voice, making it so icy that it might crack.

Draco swallows hard, hands balled into his fists at his side. “I just...how are you, Pans?”

“Fine,” Pansy says shortly even though it _hurts_. She looks down at her essay again.

“I heard that you’re applying for Mastery programs. You’ll be brilliant. You always have been,” Draco says. He’s met with an awkward silence. Pansy looks over at Milicent and Daphne. Daphne is staring at the ceiling. Milicent is staring _directly_ at Draco, like she’s watching a fucking _car_ crash—Pansy has seen one of those. It’s horrific. “I...can we talk, Pans?”

“No, we can’t,” Pansy says, her voice hard. “I thought I told you—”

“I want to _apologize_ ,” Draco blurts out.

That stops Pansy short.

“What?” she demands, finally looking him in the eye.

Draco swallows. “Please…”

“No,” Pansy says shortly. She shakes her head. “No.”

She throws her books in her bag, packing up too quickly, fast enough that she knows she’s going to end up with ink in the bottom of her bag. Loyal to a fault—loyal enough to be _Hufflepuffs,_ ugh—Milicent and Daphne pack up too, in a much more orderly fashion.

“Dinner,” Pansy blurts out and then she rushes past Draco, practically running out of the library, ignoring Madam Pince’s shrieks. She only breathes when the trio of them are standing outside.

“Merlin, Pansy, I don’t _run_ ,” Daphne says, breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” Pansy groans. She buries her face in her hands and shakes her head.

“Second time,” Milicent murmurs. “I heard he was going to try to apologize.”

Pansy looks up at her through her fingers. “And you didn’t _say_ anything?”

“We know not to bring him up,” Daphne says matter of factly. “I mean...if you wanna know about him now, he’s in a Muggle Studies course. I saw him reading, like, some Muggle book called the Invisible Man or something.”

Pansy swallows hard, because the _implications_ of that—

“Have you told Granger?” Milicent asks.

Pansy sighs. “No.”

“Don’t you think you should?” Milicent pushes. “Because I don’t think he’s just trying to apologize to you.”

Oh _fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, it was my birthday yesterday so I didn't post lol. Sorry.
> 
> Anyway, here's Wonderwall (i.e. Pansy's WINTER WONDERLAND).


End file.
